


All Hail The Outlaws

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Gun Kink, Language, M/M, Road Trips, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is a petty thief turned solider turned mercenary and criminal for hire; he's not a good person and doesn't particularly want to be. Armin is a bored graduate student with his head in the clouds. </p><p>Their worlds collide when what should have been an easy in and out robbery goes sideways and Eren takes Armin hostage. Now it's a game of intrigue, money, and sex as they try to figure a way out of this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bound and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Ideas had in the dead of night. So. We'll see how that goes.

Eren rolled his eyes and disconnected the call when it clicked over to voicemail. He redialed quickly, fingers tapping anxiously on his knee. It rang once-twice-three times and he started to wonder if Jean was actually legitimately busy for a change of pace. Stranger things had happened lately, much stranger actually, but ever since he’d jumped on the monogamy train Jean was less about going out at night and more about staying in.

A click and then, breathing hard and voice strangely husky, Jean was there. “What the fuck Eren? You had better be fucking dying.”

Eren, in spite of the dire situation, couldn’t help but grin at the sound of Jean's irritation in the darkness of the motel room. “You busy?”

“Well,” Jean drawled over a sound that could only be a breathy moan. “I am sort of doing a thing right now, yeah.”

“Tell Marco I said hi.”

Jean’s voice moved away from the phone. “Eren says hi.”

“Seriously?” Marco’s voice was pitched strangely, high and strained. There was a rustle and a creaking noise, then a wordless shout followed by a hiss of Jean’s name. Jean chuckled.

Eren started to laugh despite himself and just like that some of the tension in his shoulders lessened. Not much, the last 48 hours was still weighing heavily on him, a series of choices he couldn’t stop himself from going back over and questioning, things he’d wished he’d done different or thought through better.

Then again he was an actual professional criminal. Who would have thought stealing a car, a little convenience store heist, and some cute little rich boy would be his fucking undoing?

He was on the fast track to ‘Go directly to jail’ and listening to Marco try to explain to Jean that no, they couldn’t keep having sex while he was the phone was the first no strings or guilt attached thing to happen in two days.

But he’d called for a reason.

“You know how I was a little short on cash because Smith hasn’t paid me for that Reiss job yet? And was thinking about hitting a gas station or something? I sort of kidnapped someone while I was doing it.”

“You what?” Jean’s voice went up an octave and all traces of humor vanished. Marco mumbled something Eren didn’t catch and Jean made a huffy noise. “He kidnapped someone! We don’t kidnap people!”

“And maybe fucked them.” He glanced down at Armin as he spoke. The blonde was out cold, head pillowed on his stomach, mouth open to press out soft breaths that tickled over his skin, one arm under him, wrapped around his back, and the other hand balled up into a fist and on Eren’s chest. There were legs tangled with his own, hidden away under the scratchy motel blanket, and when he stretched his toes and he just brush the metal cuff around Armin’s ankle that kept him tethered to the bed.  

He looked peaceful, like he hadn’t been held at gunpoint, dragged across state lines, forced to help rob a gas station, been shot at, fucked in the back of a car on the side of a lonely dusty highway, handcuffed to various objects and then, finally, ankle cuffed to a shitty motel bed, handcuffs forgone so Armin could sleep better.

A ‘kindness’.

“Twice. I guess. Depending on how we define that kind of thing.”

He listened to the muffled sound of Marco and Jean whispering frantically. He suspected Jean had closed his hand around the receiver on his cellphone so he couldn’t hear them. He waited, feeling like an asshole as he threaded his fingers through Armin’s hair. The moon was half-full and spilling light into the otherwise black motel room, catching the golden strands of the other man’s hair and making it glow like some sort of halo around his pretty face.

“Eren,” Marco said with a quiet urgency. “You kidnapped someone and then slept with them? …Consensually, right?”

“What?” Armin stirred, Eren’s shout piercing through his weariness, and he lowered his voice while petting over the small man’s head. Armin made a noise then went still again. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Just trying to figure out how long you’re going to be in jail for.” Jean snapped. "Idiot." 

Eren spared a thought for how Armin had looked less than an hour ago: straddling his hips and moving over him, muscles in his thighs straining as he rocked up and down, eyes blown wide while he bit his lip before his head had tipped back. The way his lips had parted while the pale column of his throat worked around a surprised shout and how his hair, free of the hair tie and loose from its braid, had fallen around him in a curtain of gold.

The first time hadn’t been as nice; frantic rutting in the back of a car after they’d hit the gas station, mostly clothed, with Armin flat on his stomach and making wet whining noises in the back of his throat, nails digging into the fake leather seat.

Eren blinked. “He seemed enthusiastic.”

“Oh good.” Marco sounded relieved and Eren couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person they thought he was.

Oh, right, the sort of person who took hostages and then did morally questionable things like have sex with them. Fair enough.

“Any thoughts on what I should do with him?” He couldn’t just let Armin go. He knew too much, had seen and heard things he shouldn’t have, had not only seen Eren’s face but just about everything else on him…letting him go would have been taking a big risk. Not just for himself but anyone who could potentially be linked to him if the cops got a hold of him.

Another series of whispers and then Marco, voice clear and furious “You promised!”

A door slammed and Eren flinched as if he were there. Then Jean was back. “Kill him.”

Eren’s hand stopped, resting on top of the soft strands of Armin’s hair. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, listening to the sound of Armin’s breathing. Deep and even and, most importantly, very much alive.

For now.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Then what the fuck did you call me for? Do you just really like fucking up my life?” Jean sounded more tired than angry. “Helping you steal some cars or some cash is one thing but this... I think Marco’s packing a bag to leave. ”

“Fuck.”  

“I should just stop answering when you call.” Was the muttered reply. “I don’t know what else you can do though. How much does he know?”

“Too much.” Eren leaned back against the headboard. “He heard me talking to Smith about the Reiss job which is a total-”

“I don’t want to know about it.” Jean said quickly. “This is bad enough.”

Jean was, in essence, retired. He helped out if Eren called, looked at blueprints and gave suggestions but he was out of the active game and he refused to look at anything that had to do with ‘handling’ people for Smith. He’d packed up and moved out of the country to sit around on, much to Eren’s amusement, a farm. His life was quiet, simple, and full of Marco, which was just how Jean liked it.  

Eren hadn’t really gotten it. Giving up the rush and frantic pace of the lives they had to go play farmer and husband somewhere? It just didn’t make sense. Eren didn’t think that could ever be him, not really.

He didn’t understand how Jean could live like that. 

And yet he’d wanted Jean to tell him something different. Everyone else he knew would tell him to kill Armin but he’d _hoped_ Jean, with his nice little life and someone he loved, might say something else. Might have another solution.

“I like him.”

Jean swore, went silent, and then sighed. “You do not. You don't like anyone. I've known you for over a decade and I'm pretty sure you're incapable of actual human emotion.”

"I _like_ him." Silence. "Jean?"

“Don't make me the asshole here, Eren. You know what you need to do. You let him go, he turns you in. You get turned in and then you’re on Smith’s shitlist. You get on the shitlist and maybe you go to jail if you’re lucky, but you probably end up in a hole in the forest or desert. Maybe Smith starts looking for everyone you know to shut up loose ends. Maybe he finds Mikasa and then he finds me and I...I can’t run again Eren.” Eren could heard footsteps and the creaking of a door before Jean said, softly. “I can’t do that to Marco.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So fix your shit.”

“Apologize to Marco for me?”

Jean laughed and then there was only the dial tone in his ear. Eren resisted the urge to throw his phone; it was a burner so he wouldn’t have missed it but he didn’t want to wake up Armin just yet.

It turned out to be a moot point. Armin shifted and then sat up a moment later, turned to look at him with shadowed eyes. Eren’s hand fell to his side and a lump formed in his throat at the fear on the blonde’s face.

“You’re going to kill me?”

\---

_Two Days Before_

“What do you want?” Jean asked by way of greeting when he answered the phone.

“Hello to you too.”

Jean huffed. “I’ll hang up Eren, I swear to god.”

Eren wasn’t sure he believed that but he decided not to try his luck. “I’m in Buttfucknowhere, New York. Somewhere outside of Niagara Falls? And I may have spent the night at a casino and-”

“Oh my god. Do you need money? Is that why you’re calling?” Jean’s voice got progressively higher pitched as he went on. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t you just finish a job for Smith?”

Eren scuffed his foot along the pavement, more embarrassed than he was willing to let on. “He hasn’t paid yet. I left a message with his boytoy but...anyway. I’m thinking of hitting a convenience store. Nothing big, just enough for gas and a few nights in a motel. Thought maybe I’d head your way.”

Jean groaned as if he were in physical pain. “Holy...you know what? Let's just get down to it, I've got shit to do. Where are you? I can do a quick search and security profile on what’s nearby. Give me...2 hours?”

Eren rattled off the name of the town he was in and the address for the second hand store he was standing outside of. He’d hit the highway first thing in the morning once he’d realized he’d gone a little overboard the night before. It happened more often that he cared to admit, though never quite this bad before.

He’d been in a bad mood the night before.

“Thanks.”

“Go fuck yourself Jaeger.”


	2. Pins and Needles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made

According to Jean the internet was the single best tool for a quickie job. A person could get access to detailed maps, blueprints, bank records, customer reviews that happened to have interior pictures, employee records. 

Eren was fairly most of that information was of the ‘illegally obtained’ variety but far be it for him to try and take some kind of moral high ground about how Jean helped him pull shamefully small jobs because he’d blown all his money on booze and poker. Though not that much alcohol since he had little more than cottonmouth and a slight headache when he’d woken up instead of the full headache a serious binge could cause. 

Eren liked to say he’d given up on getting overwhelmingly drunk around the time it had been legal for him to do so but that would have been a lie. He’d laid off most things when he’d joined the military, been mostly sober while he and Jean had worked together, but things had picked up when he’d found himself working alone while Jean went off and lived in domestic bliss. 

The money had started slipping through his fingers a lot faster too. 

Not that Eren begrudged Jean his happiness or felt like he should have kept on with what they did for his sake. He didn’t feel abandoned and he wasn’t angry and he didn’t resent Marco. It wasn’t like that at all. 

Hell he even liked Marco, a lot. 

He was a good person, one of the best Eren had ever met, and, most importantly, he was good for Jean. Called him on his bullshit, didn’t let him get away with anything, challenged him, helped smooth out some of Jean’s manic tendencies, and didn’t hold his checkered past against him. Jean had gotten incredibly disgustingly lucky with Marco and, in the eyes of anyone who’d ever dreamed of getting out of the business and finding happiness, he was living the dream.

It wasn’t Eren’s dream though and, as happy as he was for his former partner in crime, he sometimes wished it hadn’t been Jean’s either. He was alone a lot of the time and where he’d once had Jean to help him fill the time there was nothing at all. 

He and Jean weren’t the same kind of people, not really, and he’d just sort of...missed it until Marco had come into the picture. They did the same work, were friends and partners, but in the end Jean had been in it for the money and the hope that one day he’d be able to leave it behind.

Eren was, essentially, the only thing tethering Jean to how he’d lived before (that and all of his money but schementatics) and one day he was going to stop intruding on Jean’s life. Just not today. Today he needed the other man and, just like always, Jean had come through.  

In the time it took Eren to make his way through a drive-thru, find a mostly empty parking lot to eat in, and then look through his bags to make sure he didn’t need anything else, Jean had everything put together for him.

There was a small no name 24-hour convenience store a ways down the highway, just off an exit for a little college town. Jean assured him the security was fairly lax, the location meant it didn’t have a dedicated law enforcement agency beyond the campus PD, and that he would have plenty of time to get away if something went wrong or an alarm was tripped. 

It catered mostly to students at the nearby Rose College and, bright and early on Monday morning, there was good chance the registers would still be full of all that late night hangover cure and life saving caffeine money. 

It wasn’t going to be a big score by any stretch, Jean estimated a few hundred dollars at most, but that was fine. Low risk, low reward. 

There were two ways to handle it; a dash in and out or a sit and wait. There were merits to each. Sitting and waiting would give him a better idea of foot traffic, let him make sure that only the one person Jean thought was on duty actually was, get a good idea of what nearby businesses (There was a small strip mall about half a mile down and on the other side of the road. Laundromat, chinese restaurant, coffee shop, only a handful of cars in the join lot) might be able to see. But hanging around meant more chances to be seen and remembered. 

Dash in would be faster, meant getting back on the highway and away with less chance of being noticed and that was always a good thing. But things could go wrong; people in the store he wasn’t prepared for being the biggest issue. 

In the end he decided on a quick in and out. There was always some risk of people walking in or things getting out of control, there was just no way around that. 

He parked on the side of the building, close to a dumpster then ambled inside. His hat was pulled low, the hood of his sweatshirt was up, and his fake glasses were on. It was just enough that if the cashier tried to recall his face later they wouldn’t have much of value to work with. 

The bell above the door rung cheerfully and the girl behind the counter- young, pale brown hair that framed her face, big amber colored eyes, and a bored smile with a twizzler hanging from her lips- looked up from the magazine she had spread out on the counter in front of her and sighed as if his presence was hurting her. 

The tag on her shirt identified her as ‘Hitch’. 

“Hi! Can I help you find anything today?” 

His hands were sweating in the gloves he was wearing, standard latex with a pair of black knit gloves over top, and the flush of giddiness he only felt in moments like this, right before a job, swept over him. The weight of his gun was like a familiar in the pocket of his sweatshirt and he almost sighed out loud when he reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the grip. He knew the grooves and ridges well. 

He carried a few different guns, and other ‘tricks of the trade’, everywhere he went but his preference was for smaller lightweight weapons. Jean liked to give him shit, calling them ‘dainty’ and ‘cute’ and the day he’d found out Eren’s favorite pistol was nicknamed the Baby Glock had been an a long one. 

Jean was prefered flash and size. 

Eren had always suspected he was overcompensating but Marco had once, after too many beers, smirkingly insisted that Jean as ‘horse like’. Eren’s brain still hadn’t recovered from that little bit of unwanted information. 

He returned her smile then looked down pointedly. She followed his gaze down to where he’d drawn the gun out of his pocket just a enough for it to be clear what it was. Her breathing hitched. 

“Keep your hands on the counter okay? It’s Hitch right?” 

She didn’t say anything, eyes still staring at the gun with laser focus. The color had drained from her face, leaving her looking ashen under her tan, and her mouth was open but no sound seemed able to come out. 

He was used to this. his first crimes had been petty things, shoplifting and fighting, but then he’d graduated to hitting places like this. He’d started out just running into them, yelling, knocking shit over, and demanding money with the gun he’d stolen from his father but he’d realized soon enough that sort of thing wasn’t needed. 

A little force, a small threat, got the job done just as well and without potential passerbyers seeing someone losing their shit in the store. 

He smiled again and pitched his voice towards ‘soothing’. “Is there anyone else in the store? In the back maybe?” 

Her eyes darted up to him and, eyes going even wider, she shook her head. 

“Okay, good.” Jean had been right. He tended to be in this sort of thing. “I need you to open the register. Slowly, hands where I can see them, nothing funny. This job isn’t worth getting hurt.” 

She nodded hard and, with with jerky almost mechanical movements she hit something on the first register and it opened up. Hitch winced, flinching away as the drawer shot out and the receipt paper printed out noisily. She took out a handful of bills and, tears starting to escape the corners of her eyes, and shoved them into a plastic bag when he motioned towards one. She cleaned out the drawer, even scooping some bills out from under the tray without being reminded before switching to the second. 

The bell rang, announcing someone’s presence.

“Hey Hitch.” A tired male voice called. “What’s-”

Eren didn’t hesitate, gun slipping from his pocket in one fluid motion and coming up so he could press it against Hitch’s forehead. Hitch flinched but kept her eyes down, refusing to look up from the bag on the counter. Her hands tightened around the money in her hand so hard her knuckles lost color. The owner of the voice stopped talking, words dropping off into nothing as if they’d never been there at all. 

Eren wanted to sigh, to be annoyed because watching two people was a pain and made things that much harder, but it was hard to feel anything but a excited prickle up his spine. There was something about risk, about not knowing what might happen next, that just worked for him. 

“Come here, next to me, or else I’ll put a hole in her head.” He didn’t want to look away from Hitch, fairly certain there was a panic button under the counter, but he chanced a quick look. Standing half in the store, door still open under their hand, was a petite man. Blue eyes, wide with shock behind wire framed glasses, pink lips parted around words that weren’t coming, pale skin, golden blond hair swept up into a messy bun, wearing a pale blue sweatshirt with Rose College across the front in white.

The man stiffened, eyes darting around as if he was searching for something.

Eren had two distinct thoughts. 

  1. This guy was kind of cute 
  2. It was going to be a shame have to hurt him if he tried to play hero 



Eren pressed the gun a little harder against the woman’s head. Her eyelashes fluttered and for a moment it looked like she might pass out but then she straightened up a little, posture going rigid. Her eyes darted to the side, wide and pleading. 

A soft exhale and then the man was crossing over to him, hands up and palms facing him. Once he was close enough he started talking, voice low and ugent. 

“Wait, don’t hurt her. You don’t have to hurt anyone. I can-” 

The sound of a motor, loud thumping music, and gravel crunching made Eren turn fully and then curse under his breath. Another car was pulling into the lot. 

His stomach twisted painfully; this was about to become out of control very fast. Keeping one person under control was one thing and even two was doable but more than that was just asking for trouble. It would have been something else when he still had Jean with him but on his own…

He couldn’t panic. He’d done worse, much worse, without losing his cool and he wasn’t going to go down for fucking robbing some shitty near backwoods convenience store. 

Jean would never let him live something like that down. 

He needed to get out of the store before whoever was in that car came in and he needed a way to do it that kept these two under his thumb. He needed...

Leverage. 

The idea bloomed in his mind. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid and if Jean was there he would have flipped a shit at the very thought, but Jean wasn’t there and it was up to Eren to make sure he didn’t end up any deeper in shit than he had to. 

He reached for the blonde, wrapping his fingers tight around his bicep. “Take the bag. Now.” 

Blue eyes darted up to look at his face as the bag changed hands, Hitch looking almost relieved to have it out of her grip. He brought the gun down, casting another look out into the lot, and pulled the blonde close enough to fit against his side. He pushed the gun into the man’s side, just under his ribs. 

He felt a shiver run through the man. 

His hands were sweating and his mouth and throat were almost painfully dry but he made himself push out words and keep his tone even.

“We’re going to walk out of here together. You’re going to stay here and not say a word. I see those guys following us or so much as looking in our direction and I’ll have to hurt your friend.” 

He got two very eager nods in response. 

He didn’t think for a second she wasn’t going to call the cops but it might make her hesitate for a few minutes and he was going to need all the time he could get. 

They walked out, his arm around the blond man’s back to hold him tight against him and the gun between them, still pressed into the man’s ribs. The car in the lot held a group of men, half out of the car and shoving at each other as they laughed and spoke. The blond’s head started to swivel towards them.

“Eyes ahead.” Eren leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Smile pretty. Don’t try anything.” 

“Okay.” His voice trembled but he did as he was told, matching Eren’s pace and never looking towards the men walking closer to the store. They wouldn’t be coming near them at all and, most importantly, other than a few glances in their direction, they seemed indifferent to them. Later, when the inevitable happened and the cops asked them what they’d seen, they probably wouldn’t remember much.

His heart was beating so hard he felt like he could feel it slamming against his ribcage, threatening to burst loose and give him away. He licked his lips and swallowed, wanted to turn around to watch what the men and see what they were doing but he didn't allow himself to do it. 

They were around the corner to the side lot when he heard the faint tinkling of the bell. He pushed the man, silently urging him to move faster. 

There was a car parked next to his own now. He gave it a quick look, noting the make and model; an Audi, bright blue, current year, well taken care of, much nicer than the compact car he’d picked up the day before. 

In different circumstances...

He pushed the man in through the driver’s side door and kept pushing until he was more or less in the passenger seat then slide in after him. The gun went into his lap, strangely heavy there. 

“There are cuffs in the glove compartment. Connect yourself to the door handle.” He’d left the keys in the ignition and didn’t spare any time in getting it started. He backed out of the spot, resisting the urge to floor it and peel out. He wanted to get away yes, but he was trying to buy time and not draw attention. 

“What?” The man was holding the bag close to him and was half hunched, eyes bright. “I-I won’t do anything, you don’t need to-”

“Cuffs. Now.” They were going past the front of the store; he looked to the side and saw Hitch wearing a pasted on smile and nodding at something one of the men was saying to her. 

It didn’t look like she’d raised the alarm yet. 

They turned onto the road and slid into the lane that would take them to the highway. The drive to the turn on was a straight shot with no other cars just like the trip in had been. 

He heard the jingle of the metal cuffs and saw the man moving out of the corner of his eye but didn’t turn to look at him fully, mind occupied with the various routes Jean had given him to consider when they’d spoke. He was going to need another car, fast, which meant he wouldn’t be able to just drive straight out of state like he’d planned. 

Some of the adrenaline drained out of him as they hit the highway and merged with other vehicles and, as his pulse returned to normal, realization set in. 

He looked at the man curled up and pressed close to the door, watching him with big afraid eyes then looked back at the road ahead of him. 

Fuck. 


End file.
